Blog Posts - Wisdom in Waves

My Wedding Ring

9/30/2019

My wedding ring is the perfect metaphor for marriage-
a little weathered and less sparkly than when we first started.
With the peppered beard you wear without shame,
and the white hairs I hide under black dye,
we balance honesty and vulnerability
precariously at kitchen table conversations.
And I wouldn’t change your razor sharp precision with language,
or my gentle sensitivities to create
safe sacred space for others,
the ring reminding me that a circle
is not a completion of love,
but sharing our incompleteness
with each other.

Letting Go with Compassion and Wisdom

9/22/2019

With the fall equinox, trees are shedding leaves for new growth. I am encouraged to reflect on what it means to let go. I would love to release habitual patterns, judgements, identities that are no longer serving me or others.

I wish I could simply write a 'how to' plan for skillful renunciation, a recipe that is easy to follow. Even if this were possible, ten individuals following this plan would likely have ten different journeys and outcomes. Still, I’d like to share what I’m learning. Maybe it will resonate with you. Maybe it won’t.

What does it mean to let go with compassion? For me, it means not forcefully prying fingers open when I’m holding on tight. It’s gently cradling the angry, frightened, hurt, lonely, or disappointed one in loving arms. It’s giving the physical manifestations of chaotic thoughts and emotions as much space as they need in the body and time to manifest as wisdom.

I’ve tried to let go with wisdom, telling myself that nothing is personal, perfect, or permanent. It sounds great in my head, but the body is not buying into this bullshit for one second. It recognizes a spiritual bypass and calls my bluff every single time. For me, letting go with wisdom is understanding the truth of impermanence, and the suffering that arises with grasping (material objects, people, pets, plans, identities, views, etc.). Not just at the head level, but at the heart and belly levels.

In Mama Sutra, Anne Cushman writes, “It is the process that releases the prana, not the pose.” All too often, I want to perfect a yoga pose, a meditation sit, a relationship, an experience, a version of myself or someone else, wasting so much energy trying to reach a destination that forever eludes me. Exhausted, I will still ask, “Am I there yet?”

I’m starting to fall in love with the process that releases the prana, the life force that keeps me going, kissing each wound with tenderness, opening to the wisdom of change.

May we let go one leaf at a time. May there be space for healing and new growth.

RAIN: A Partial Drizzle...and It’s Good Enough

8/25/2019

She asks if I’ll come on a Stanford dish hike with her and Papa. “C’mon Mom! If I have to do it, you can, too."

The next morning, we drive out to the Stanford dish later than I would prefer. The sun’s already out to test hikers’ endurance. It doesn’t take long for aversive mind to set in.

Thought clouds pop up left and right. Too bad they aren’t precipitating any moisture or helpful cover against the sun.

“I shouldn’t have come.”
“We should have left earlier.”
“I hope my SI joint and gluteal muscles can do this.”
“My daughter should have worn shorts like her parents. What was she thinking hiking in jeans? She didn’t even sunblock her arms!”

Thank goodness for awareness. There is clear recognition that none of these thoughts are helping me cool down physically or emotionally.

As we walk to the dish and begin the hike, I change thought channels to things I am grateful for. The family hiking together. The choice to change thoughts. Dressing appropriately for the weather. Bringing a water bottle along. Sunglasses, sunhat, sunblocking the skin. A body that can walk.

“I can do this! We can do this!”

It doesn’t take long for my teen to complain as we trudge up the first steep hill.

“(Groan) How long is this hike anyway? Why did I ever agree to this?”

Papa is further up the hill walking backwards as if he is our guide.

“Welcome to the Stanford Dish. As you can see, shade on this hike is sparse. It’s 3.5 miles. Keep up or be boiled alive!”

I glance over at our daughter’s expression. She isn’t exactly smiling at this motivational pep talk. Recognizing the aversion and allowing it to be just as it is, I try a different approach as we reach the top of the hill.

“Wow! We made it. Sure is hot out here. How are you doing in those jeans? Do you need any water?”

Throughout the hike, I try to mirror her groans with my own, the two of us swearing and laughing at how good it feels to express discontent. She seems to appreciate the fantasy of us walking in a different season altogether or having our favorite flavored popsicles and snow cones to cool us down.

I realize that this is only a partial drizzle of “RAIN”. I am not helping her to investigate the discomfort in her body or to not identify with the experience as “me” or “mine”, to nourish with self-compassion.

Is it enough?

Trusting the recognition and allowing parts of RAIN, we stay with the imaginary drizzle. Granted it’s more guided imagery than straightforward mindfulness, maternal instinct tells me she isn’t ready for the investigation and non-identification/nourishing parts. She isn’t ready to open to the deluge of what’s inside her.

Most adults aren’t ready, either.

Guiding her too far, too fast would be a subtle form of spiritual bypass. It’s tempting to get to the end of the hike, the metaphorical end of suffering as quickly as possible. I should know. I’ve done it plenty of times in the delusional name of healing.

We eventually reach the end of the hike. No actual rain, but a partial drizzle with “RA” was good enough. An understanding of “IN” may come with time.

Take all the time you need, Dear One. The emotional intelligence I see in you surprises me, surpasses where I was at your age.

May you meet the ups and downs of life with emotional, spiritual tools that make sense to you.

Taking Your Seat: Enlightenment and Trying Again

8/5/2019

(Inspired by Ayya Anandabodhi, Rohini “Wandering Star”, and Joseph Goldstein)

Upper Retreat Hall, Spirit Rock Meditation Center

Bathe all your worries in the sweet syrup breath of metta
Nothing can ever taste bitter this way
Nothing can harm a you that isn’t there
Citta knows exactly what is needed
Citta can show you the way
I’ve lived here for so long
And failed to recognize this shelter
The strong structural support
The ability to frame all experience in love
May the heart hold beauty and terror
In the same loving space
May this be the house of awakening

There are so many dizzying definitions of happiness. Buy this, go here, have this kind of family and home.

When you get quiet, when the neon lights and the buzz of false advertising fall away, what’s left? Who do you trust? What can you rely on? What brings a lasting sense of contentment, peace? What helps you face the full spectrum of life’s ruthless and benevolent promises?

These questions are not meant to taunt you, but to encourage rest and reflection into this very moment. If you lost everyone and everything you loved, where would you seek shelter?

I’ve chased happiness like an elusive butterfly, believing I could get close enough, freeze-frame it and own it forever. The pursuit of enlightenment has been no different. THIS is the teacher, retreat, program, and/or practice that holds the key to the locked door inside me. Someone else has it. Not me.

What does it mean to take our seats, not just on the metaphoric chair or cushion, but in our lives, with each other, all beings, the Earth, in this moment? Let’s start here. Here is where all the action is, where all the healing takes place.

May you find that key and unlock a little more each day from the inside out. May fear/outcome-based expectations become heart-based aspirations.

Maybe it’s not enlightenment or bust.

Maybe it’s enlightenment and trying again.

Weeds or Wildflowers...It’s All About Perception

7/21/2019

Fall and winter are generally seasons for introspection. Summer has been that time for me. Rather than calling it a midlife crisis, I’d like to think of it as midlife reflections.

I’ve been thinking about work, family, friends, where I live, hobbies, my place in the web of life. Where do I fit in? Do I belong?

FOMO (fear of missing out) keeps me constantly second guessing choices I’ve made. Maybe things would be better if I changed them up a bit. After all, so and so says it’s working for him/her/them. It’s so easy to become encased in others’ dreams, ideas, values like an old house, an old soul constantly receiving a fresh coat of paint, forgetting what the base coat ever looked or felt like.

I value time for silent reflection more than the most exotic place to visit, the biggest diamond, the prettiest home, sometimes even over relationships I deeply value. It’s where I can hear and remember how to live life from the inside out, what that base coat on this heart feels like, what it’s trying to tell me. I’m writing this on the Arbolejo Overlook of the Chamise trail at Foothills Park where some of these photos were taken.

There’s this snail-paced, slow and steady movement towards JOMO (joy of missing out). It’s so refreshing to trust the moment as my greatest teacher. I don’t need to whirlwind into the future with an expectation for definite answers. I can trust the leaves of wisdom to gently fall into my lap when they are ready to let go, to be known.

Love is so much larger than fear, doubt, and comparing mind. I am learning this in the arms of a beloved community, in the wild and vast lap of Mama Earth. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Gate gate para gate para sum gate bodhi swaha!
(Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone far beyond, to Awakening!)

To Contentment.

Anapanasati

6/27/2019

Essence of Sun and Earth by Vijali Hamilton

In silence I found her breathing,
feeling everything from the inside out--
the longing, the painful contractions
of trying to birth something
despite perimenopause.
But there was no need to labor,
to bring forth what was already here--
creative, intuitive knowing that
doesn’t just visit once a month
but each time she feels
the intimate flow of warm wind
from sky to earth chakra and back.
Breath as lover, best friend, savior
from all she has feared
to all she chooses to love.

(Note: Anapanasati is mindfulness of breathing.)

Beyond Diagnoses

5/26/2019

Her name on the patient schedule makes me cringe with dread and doubt. Her medical conditions are complex. She has every textbook complication of uncontrolled diabetes: legally blind, on dialysis, a finger amputation, a foot ulcer, heart disease, and blood pressure. What can I possibly offer this woman recently discharged from the ER with low back pain and leg numbness?

Wearing a name badge and stethoscope without a white coat, I take in a deep breath, exhale, and step into the exam room. Maybe I should have worn the white coat to help me look more official and less flustered.

Obsidian glints of merriment shine from her eyes as she stands to shake my hand. I’m surprised by the smile on her face despite the list of medical diagnoses and complications on her chart. Who is this woman? What does she want from me?

As we talk about her recent ER visit and she shares what has been happening with her physical health, I’m struck by her determined presence, her calm demeanor, a fighting spirit that refuses to be trapped in diseases, locked in misunderstanding by the medical profession.

She doesn’t want me to find the perfect medication or right therapy for her back pain and leg numbness. She’s asking to be seen, to be reflected as a valid human being experiencing change and loss as we all do. She’s asking me to acknowledge a resilient spirit that refuses to be limited by this medical story.

And suddenly she has my full attention and respect. Dread and doubt are now surrounded by compassionate connection, by awe. We explore possible resources for her care that weren’t apparent before, fears that she hasn’t expressed elsewhere, a lineage of strong ancestors guiding her.

At the end of our time together, we embrace in a shared wish for her wellbeing, for what is still possible despite the biological odds against her. I take this experience home with me and sit in meditation.

Settling into the body and breath with a steady rhythm, I receive oxygen from the trees outside and release carbon dioxide pressures from the day. Guided by Tonglen practice, I take in her suffering and send ease, breathe in her celebration of life and release it to all beings in need of inspiration.

May we listen to our patients’ stories with a willingness to be surprised. May we recognize that our healing journeys are not so different than their own.

Just as it is, Just as you are

5/18/2019

Woke up with a pounding headache
Stayed up late last night
Come sit on the zafu
With everything as it is
Thoughts chasing the future
Replaying the past
It’s always better somewhere else
Or is it
Belly tensing against today
What do I need to do
What will the weather be like
Should have stayed asleep
For a better meditation
Waking up later
To practice again
It’s ok sweetheart
Welcome home
Just as you are
Finding the breath as ally
Soothing the body
Gathering swirling thoughts
Collecting them as mementos
For the heart to hold
Getting quiet
Sitting like a mountain
Unmoved by the weather outside
Breathing in oxygen
Breathing out carbon dioxide
Symbiosis with trees
Appreciation
Breathing in his suffering
Breathing out compassion
Breathing in her struggles
Breathing out support
Breathing in their confusion
Breathing out understanding
Breathing in the joy
Of this practice
Breathing out the wish
May others experience this too

Faith as a Tree

5/11/2019

Living Tree by Bernadett Bagyinka

While clearing out the closet and bookshelf at home, I notice many Buddhist, self-awareness, and spiritual books accumulated over the years. Wow! How many times have I gone back to reread the treasure chest of wisdom already written? How often does the heart-mind feel unsettled, wondering who or what will bring me one step closer to nibanna (nirvana)?

An inquiry from a recent conversation with DoriMa returns. What if you never sat another retreat, listened to another Dhamma (Dharma) talk, or took another course? Would it be enough?

After completing 2 years of the DPP6 program through Spirit Rock, sadness and uncertainty continue the eulogy. Hey, wait a minute? Who died? I’m not ready to let go of the teachers, the ancestral altar, the Sangha, the family that was always temporary as all things are.

Post retreat, I feel shaky. A familiar voice and way of being shouts, restless and impatient. C’mon, search the internet for all possible retreats out there, Amazon for all those books, email for invitations to DPP6 Revival events!

And there is another energy emerging within, one that isn’t as familiar as fear and doubt. Remember your Buddha Nature, and reflect the Buddha Nature in others. Let go. Trust in the heart to hold this. This energy releases past karmic chords and locks the door to the future, imbuing the present moment with vivid clarity. Why would I choose to be anywhere else? This is the wisdom of no escape. This is the gift of faith.

I see the Paramis popping up like popcorn in loved ones at home, patients at work, even drivers who cut me off. When conversations and situations feel challenging, faith bridges the gap between suffering and joy (TDO). It expands awareness to include body, breath, others, and a radiant heart that has enough fuel to love what is. Not because what’s happening is pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral, but because there is a fullness of heart to meet it without needing things to be different.

This faith doesn’t pout like an impatient, bored child on a road trip inquiring several times if we are there yet. It’s the patient parent transforming the journey into an adventure, inviting the child into presence so many creative different ways.

I have no idea what the future will bring. Because tomorrow is never guaranteed, there is so much gratitude to the elements that have shaped this heart-mind over a lifetime (lifetimes if you believe in kamma, karma). Whether I read this book, do that retreat, join a particular group, or class, I know a seed was planted long ago. She is 46 (or 46,000) years old. Maybe her rate of growth was never dependent on perfect conditions - high quality nutrients, fertile soil, an ideal balance of rain and sun, or expert arborists.

Maybe all she ever needed was faith.

Expectations

4/15/2019

Expectations. Many of us have them. They aren’t bad or wrong. And, like weeds disguised as flowers, they can proliferate in the mind with false promises of beauty and permanence.

Have you ever wanted someone, yourself, or a situation to be different, directing the show and dumbfounded when life plays out a script you haven’t written? Are you tired of trying to control each scene like I am? Do the actors listen? Are the props and artwork of each backdrop good enough? Are they even real?

If you resonate with any the above inquires, please know you are not alone. I’d like to share some ways I’ve been practicing with expectations to cultivate contentment.

Acknowledge, name the expectation. Once known, it can lose it's automatic pilot power over you.
Breathe with what is happening internally, bow to it as a divine messenger of wisdom not yet recognized. When there is internal space, other possibilities can be seen/heard/felt.
Get curious about the need beneath the expectation. Do you really want safety, connection, love, acceptance, peace? Ask the question gently; the answer will not come before it's ripe and ready.
Deepen the attention with compassion- an ally, word, image or phrase that feels comforting. (For some, humor, gratitude, etc. may be more accessible than compassion to deepen attention.)

This process is not cognitive gymnastics. You don’t get an Olympic gold medal for overthinking. If you find the mind or body are contracted, try softer, not harder. Let go of words, the need to know, getting it right. Let go of the practice itself.

It’s common for fear and doubt to arise. If you let go, what’s left? Do you lose others? Do you lose yourself? When you are fully inhabiting this moment as best as you possibly can, there is nothing left but space for seeds of love (or whatever wholesome word fits here for you) to grow, for silence to give birth to the answers you seek.

This process is also not linear. Though I’ve chosen ABCD as acronyms for ease of remembrance, A doesn’t necessarily lead to B, C, and D.

It’s helpful to think of this as a template, a skeleton. How you fill in the missing parts and embody them is up to you. What feels true in your experience? What feels like home?

May this post inspire a contentment far beyond the false facade of happiness advertised in comparing mind, on Facebook, and many other modes of media.

May we find peace and let go, knowing we will forget, trust, and confidently find peace again.